


Fuzzy Blue Lights

by prongsno



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Alternate Universe - Muggle, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Marauders, Marauders' Era, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2018-11-30 13:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11464989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prongsno/pseuds/prongsno
Summary: Thirty day otp challenge with Sirius x Mary. Hogwarts years, after graduation, muggle aus and more! Join me in the blackdonald pit.





	1. Getting Lost

“Is there a reason why you’re in a tree, Macdonald?” 

“I lost my cat.” She says this like it’s obvious and peers cautiously over the edge of the branches to peek at the owner of the voice.

Sirius Black is staring up at her, perplexed and amused. He’s got a couple of leaves in his hair (that’d be her fault, she was certain this was where her cat was hiding) and from all the way up here he looks like less of an ass-hole. 

“In a tree? In the forbidden forest?” 

“I thought she was up here, but she’s not.”

“Right,” Sirius just stares at her for a couple of seconds, he cocks his head to the side and smirks. “You gonna come down any time soon?” 

“Yes, of course.” She glares at him, but doesn’t move an inch. He grins; her fingers are gripping onto the branch in front of her so tight they are turning white. He folds his arms against his chest, smug.

“You’re stuck aren’t you? Somehow you made it all the way up there and now you can’t get down?”

“I can manage perfectly on my own, thank you very much.” 

Hands slide coolly into his pockets, he nods. “Okay, I’ll leave you to that then. I’ve got better things to do.”

He’s lying, of course he is. 

He had actually (for once) not even planned to get a detention and yet here he was having to search the entire forest for some rare moss for Professor Sprout without his wand; he hates irony. He’s never been outside the castle without his wand and it feels like part of his body is missing, It’s irritating him and he’s beyond agitated right now, even before he came across Mary. 

Nevertheless, he turns around and he hears her mutter out a sigh and a few swear words. Damn, sweet and innocent Mary Macdonald has a foul mouth, who knew?

“Wait!” His feet pause just as he hears her soft voice call out. There’s a rustle of leaves and she’s muttering to herself again. He turns back to her, feigning shock.

“Yes? You called?”

She clucks her tongue and he finds it hilarious that she can’t even do anything with her hands otherwise she’d lose her balance. 

“Okay, I need help.” 

“What do you expect me to do about that?” 

“You’re a wizard aren’t you? Can’t you cast an, I don’t know, spell of some kind?”

He taps his chin. “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of the ‘I don’t know spell’, Macdonald.” 

“ _ Please?” _

Whatever he was expecting her to say, it was definitely not begging and saying please. He’s folding his arms again, biting his bottom lip as his fingers mess with his sleeves. This is a mess, but an interesting one to say the least.

“I…” He stops. Then looks at her again. Even her eyes are pleading at him, she looks so sad and helpless that he can’t believe he’s even considering helping her. “Don’t you have a wand, silly? Just use yours.” 

“Do you think I’d still be here like this if I could reach to my wand? Godric, Black. I’m not sitting up here for giggles, this is terrifying.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“What? Why? Look, Black, help a fellow Gryffindor out? I’ll let you copy my Divination essay?”

“I… err. I don’t have my… um wand.” 

If you had asked Sirius Black how he expected his detention to be he would have replied with ‘God awful boring’ in less than seven seconds flat. In no way had he ever imagined that he’d be standing underneath Mary Macdonald in a tree with his arms out, ready to catch her like some human blanket.

The girl has finally moved from the branch, but is now clinging onto another like a monkey.

“Macdonald, please. I can see your knickers and it’s not a sight I want to see right now-” 

He hears her give out a shocked gasp and suddenly all he is aware of is the gut wrenching sound of snapping branches and Mary screaming as she drops. It’s all too fast, he blinks in surprise and then he’s knocked back onto the floor with leaves, twigs and a panting Mary sprawled on top of him. 

“Are you okay?” Is the first thing she asks. 

He stares, their faces are mere inches apart and he can’t believe of all the things _ she’s asking him _ it’s if he’s okay. She just fell about seven feet?

He just blinks and mutters out a ‘mhm’ as she jumps up with a surprisingly bouncy spring in her step. Then she’s standing over him and he’s looking up at her again (she looks funny upside down) for the second time already. She puts out her hand, he’s not even thinking as he takes it and he’s being pulled up. Finally standing again he’s towering over her. 

He prefers it this way. 

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen a black and white cat roaming around the forest, have you?”

He’s shaking his head, still a little too lost for words. “Sorry,” he says eventually. “I don’t think so.” 

She sighs, brushes off the few clumps of dirt on her robes and sets off walking. She’s only taken ten steps but she can feel his heavy gaze on her back and the guilt just gnaws at her until she finally stops. 

He looks a little lost standing there on his own, arms drawn over his chest in an almost protective stance.

“I suppose you can come too.” She doesn’t think she’d be able to forgive herself if she left a student stranded like that after just bungee jumping onto them, even if said student is Sirius Black. 

“Really?” He looks elated as he jogs towards her, the last of the leaves falling down from his hair in a graceful manner as he brushes his hand through his locks. “I mean, not that I  _ need _ your help or anything.” 

She rolls her eyes at this but a small smile edges out from her pursed lips regardless. 

“Course not, you’re just stranded in the forest wand-less. No big deal.” 

He squirms awkwardly at that word. Just the sound of it reminds him how uneasy he feels. He’s basically helpless. “Exactly. You just happened to be in my vicinity and because you’re such a wonderful, friendly and kind human being decided you’ll help your rescuer.”

‘Rescuer’ seems a little far-fetched. He  _ helped _ , she’s grateful for that. And they’re both lost and looking for something (although technically he is in detention); she admits company would be nice, even if it is the company of Sirius Black. 

But five minutes later she’s already regretting her decision. 

“Can’t you shine your wand higher, Macdonald? Unlike you, I’m not five feet off the ground. I can’t see a thing.” 

“Are you  _ sure _ you know where you’re going, Macdonald?”

“Macdonald, we’ve already passed by this tree stump  _ four _ times already-”

He trips up on a tree root and falls flat on his face, that shuts him up for a while.  

She never tells him but he’s got dirt plastered to him from the previous fall, splodges on his nose and cheeks and every time she glances at him she grins evilly. He never notices, just continues to squint his eyes with his arms stretched out in front of him in a daze. 

He’s been messing with his hands constantly, fiddling with anything from his uniform to the random trees they pass by and the more minutes that pass the more agitated he’s clearly becoming. 

“This may sound like an odd question, but-”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.” 

“Fine. What were you going to ask?”

He’s feeling stupider by the minute but his fingers are itching. “Your wand. Can I… um hold it?” 

That is not what she expects. She raises an eyebrow but complies (in a strange way she oddly trusts him). 

“You can hold onto it for a while,” she smiles. “You were always better at defensive spells so if we run into any trouble I can blame you for your bad wand waving.”

He mumbles out an flustered thanks, refusing to meet her gaze and grips tight of the wand. Finally he feels normal again.

“We’re lost, aren’t we?” He asks after ten minutes of silence. 

“Possibly. Hey look, isn’t that your whatsit?” 

They spend two minutes scraping the ‘rare’ moss with their nails but finally succeed in getting it all. Sirius cradles the glowing blue thing in his arms like a baby, muttering under his breath about ‘three fecking hours I’ve been looking for this, my God’.

“Sorry.” He mutters out after another three minutes. “About your cat, I mean.” 

Dusk has been and gone now. The trees block out any light from the moon and the only source they have is that tiny ball shooting from Mary’s wand. She fiddles with her tie, her shoulders shrugging as she takes in his words. 

“That’s okay, you don’t have to apologise. Thumb’s usually doing this.” 

A twig snaps from under his feet as he swivels around to look at her in shock. “You called your cat  _ Thumb _ ?”

“Thumbelina.”

“Pardon?”

“You know, the old muggle fairy tale about a girl the size of a thumb who grows in a flower.” 

“Never heard of it. Sounds cliche but I’ll have a look for it when I’m at home, it’ll shock my mother at least. Thumbelina has nothing on Babbity Rabbity though. And, in all seriousness Macdonald,  _ Thumb _ ? No wonder she ran away.”

It takes him all of five seconds before he takes in a breath and swears out loud. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that, Macdonald.” 

The girl is quiet beside him, her hands are shaking and for some reason he follows- the light beaming from her wand jiggles and sways as it illuminates the trees. 

“Macdonald?” This time he stops and reaches out to grab her arm gently. “Hey, look at me.” 

Finally she relents and when their eyes meet he gets this odd shiver that runs down his spine. He can’t help himself as his hands move of their own accord and all of a sudden he’s holding onto her in what he hopes is a consoling and comforting awkward half hug. 

“We’re going to find Thumb  _ and _ a way out of here, I promise.” 

Either Sirius has some weird kind of sixth sense or he’s an incredibly lucky person because no sooner has five minutes passed that they finally make it back to the edges of the forest (seeing Hagrid’s intense smoke swirls from his chimney is a large giveaway to be honest). 

Hagrid is already waving at them eagerly with one hand whilst the other carries what looks like a giant hairy beast. Mary is off with a gasp, her little legs running as fast as she can as she screams out ‘Thumb!’. 

She’s cooing at the cat (who looks more like a grumpy large sized sloth with extra hair than a cat of all things) as she thanks Hagrid, stroking the weird creature and giving it kisses. 

He seriously (pun intended) tries his hardest not to say anything. 

He opens his mouth a few times but manages to close it before the words bubble out of him like a stream. But then Mary picks up Thumb and the cat is almost the same freaking size as this small girl and damn the temptation is too much. 

He’s shaking his head in amazement (from the name Thumb he was expecting this cute, adorable kitten with sweet, innocent eyes- not this angry, grumpy tiger-sized cat that her owner can’t even hold properly from the weight of the animal). 

The words are wheezing out before he even notices.

“You named that gigantic hairy beast  _ Thumb _ ?”   
  



	2. Pet Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's bad with names, especially hers.

The first time he hears her name he’s not paying attention. **  
**

He’s sat at the Gryffindor table, fingers drumming anxiously against the wooden table and eyes staring off into space. He’s only eleven; his dreams revolve around food villages and he’s still far too young. He’s still in shock that he’s not just been sorted into Slytherin, even though he’s had that feeling in his gut for years.

There’s something in the air that makes him shiver.

Her name is just a distant murmur. MacSomething or other, he doesn’t really care.

There’s the usual round of applause and he idly joins along, more focused on how his stomach churns for what feels like the seventeenth time. He didn’t manage to get any breakfast.

He does notice a small brunette, however, walk towards the same table he’s at. Her cheeks are on fire as she sits down next a smiling red-head, she seems a bit embarrassed about all the attention but he pays her little notice.

It’s only when he hears “Potter”, followed by the immediate “GRYFFINDOR!” from the sorting hat, that Sirius finally looks up. And that’s when he sees her.

He didn’t plan for it to happen, but suddenly she’s right there and he can’t think about anything else. All he can see is a startling light blue, soft like a spring day.

Everything is fuzzy and a blur, but then he feels a hand on his shoulder and James Potter sits next him, grinning from ear to ear. The girl is at the back of his mind, he’s already forgotten the shade of her eyes and the pink tinge of her cheeks.

James’s hand reaches out for a high five and the rest, as they say, is history.

* * *

 

He’s bad with names. Especially hers.

“Black and MacDonald.”

They’re in Potions, listening to Slughorn as he reads off the potions partners for their second year.

Sirius stops doodling on his parchment. “Who?” He asks. James whacks him across the head.

“You’ve got to be kidding, mate. She’s been in our house for two years.”

James points across the classroom and then he understands.

Ah, her.

For the past two years he's been able to avoid her name. Of course, they've talked on occasion but he's been able to sneak by with “You”.

Now MacSomething or other is Macdonald, and he’s not sure how he feels about this new information.

Sirius begrudgingly gets off his chair, salutes to James and sets off towards her table. A scrunched up paper ball is thrown at her head by Lily Evans and MacDonald opens it and snorts with laughter as she reads the message.

He plops into the seat next to her and her name feels so foreign on his tongue. He panics, feeling nervous all of a sudden. He scratches his nose, clears his throat and tries his best.

“Hey… you.”

It's like he's seeing her for the first time and his breath hitches in his throat. He's never been this close to her before and suddenly he can see the small dusting of freckles over her nose and cheeks. The colour of her eyes, which once reminded him of a soft summer's day last year, is now a deep blue close up. He's lost in her eyes, an ocean full and vast and he's helplessly floating along.

“Black.”

He hates his name, always has. But the way his last name rolls off her tongue, the way her northern accent plays around with the word… It gives him goosebumps.

Despite himself, and the hate and resentment that riles up in his gut like an angry monster whenever he remembers his horrible family, he smiles.

She's MacDonald from then on.

* * *

 

Third year rushes around too fast for Sirius’ liking. He feels like a tumbleweed, being pushed around by everything that has control over his life.

Third year is the year that the boys found out about Remus’s werewolf condition; it’s also the year that Peter develops a crush on Dorcas Meadowes and, more often than not, Sirius finds himself lying awake at night, listening to Peter as he mumbles about heart-ache and heart-break.

Sirius hopes he never has to feel what Peter’s going through, it sounds troublesome.

He does understand what it feels like to have his heart shatter, however, when he receives a letter. It’s the neat and cursive quillwork from his mother that already sets his body into a high alert, anxiety and dread rushing through his fingers as he takes a breath and a plunge.

He’s been bottling it all up for so long, all these worries and fears and the past just eating away at his insides; torturing him.

And just reading those words, harsh and distant like he’s always remembered Walburga Black, stops him on his tracks.

His hand is shaking before he’s even realised and it’s like he’s being crashed mercilessly against thunderous waves, he stumbles backwards and his back hits the wall of the owlery. He sputters out a small gasp, but he’s already gulping and trying to stop the tears stinging his eyes.

He’s never felt so alone since his childhood days at number 12 Grimmauld Place. And it was his uncle Alphard who made those days a little more bearable, along with the help from his favourite cousin Andromeda.

But his family isn’t here right now and the short, cold letter written by his mother is the first form of communication he’s had from her at Hogwarts, ever. He doesn’t quite understand why it’s affecting him so.

He’s angry, at her and at himself for getting so emotional about a stupid, short letter. Fingers grip onto the letter, hard, and he crumples it into a ball. He’s ready to whip out his wand and set the damned thing alight. 

Until he hears his name. And her voice.

It’s like the soft, empty silence after a wave strikes the rocks. It’s peaceful, gentle.

She’s calling out his name and it’s so distant in the back of his mind because he’s frozen with shock at how her voice just instantly calms him down.

Then she’s shaking his shoulder lightly, whispering out his name again in fear that he’ll crumble beneath her hands. 

He almost does.

He looks up at her with a gulp and tries to breathe. She doesn’t look at him with pity and for that he’s eternally grateful.

All she does is let out a little sigh, shakes her head softly, then plops down onto the ledge beside him. His face is wet with tears and his eyes are stinging, but her presence is comforting in an incomprehensible way.

“Would you like a biscuit, Black?”

The letter’s thrown onto the floor, scrunched and never to be read again. By him anyways.

“Is it chocolate?” He finds himself saying, even though his throat is sore and scratchy and he has no idea why she is even bothering with him at all.

“Of course,” She smiles and proudly presents him with a packet of muggle biscuits from her cloak pocket.

It’s an odd situation, but no one has ever offered him something like this since his first train ride on the Hogwarts Express when scrawny Sirius Black and James Potter shared a packet of every flavour beans.

He takes the biscuits with a smile, breathing deeply when their fingers collide and his hand brushes against hers.

Is this what Peter meant?

* * *

 

He wants to call her something more. But even as fourth year passes by, and she's on the Quidditch team with James, and they're on  _friendlyish_  terms he still doesn't know who she is apart from MacDonald.

He’s gotten quite attached to the name, to be honest.

He sees her at the Gryffindor table the breakfast before her first match with James and the rest of the team.

James says he's not nervous, but still manages to consume three coffees during ten minutes and MacDonald is drumming her fingers against the oak wood, refusing to let the nerves get to her.

He wishes her luck and she smiles, teeth biting against her bottom lip as she sips on her tea.

James says he'll look after her, as long she does the same for him and she laughs a sweet, merry and wonderful laugh. He's slightly jealous that it's not him who made her happy, but she looks so good with a smile..

He tells them he'll be up on the stands with Peter, Remus and Lily and his eyes never leave the pitch.

It's an ultimate Gryffindor win, the red and gold stands boom with upracious cheer and Sirius joins in with the celebration chants and screams.

She's shining with delight, looking windswept and muddy but alive.

A crowd of red and gold clad Gryffindors rush onto the pitch as the stands start to empty, cheering once more for MacDonald, the seeker who managed to catch the snitch in record breaking time.

Remus and Peter cheer and pull James onto their shoulders and back, carrying him amidst the sea of red as they make their way to the common room chanting the Gryffindor song.

It's starting to drizzle and he notices that she's still standing on the pitch, looking lost and in a daze.

“Coming?” He calls and when she turns to him he shuts his hands into his pockets, suddenly feeling self conscious.

“Oh, yeah.” She chuckles, scratching her feet against the gravel before she starts walking and he joins in her stride.

“Congrats again, MacDonald. You did really good, kicking Slytherins’ ass and all.”

The sun glows softly against the light drizzle, making the pitch erupt in a hazy glow of gold and orange.

“Thanks, Black.”

Then there's a strange silence and he doesn't quite know what to say.

“Don't you think we should use our first names?” Her question rings out, shocking him. “I mean, we've known each other for almost five years and I use everyone else's first names. What do you say, Sirius?”

His name on her lips sounds like sweet, honey dripping into a hot cup of milk. For once he actually enjoys hearing it and he savours in the warm feeling that engulfs him.

“Um sure. Yes.”

He's bad with names, especially hers.

It's at the tip of his tongue, wanting so badly to escape but the name doesn't come.

“You have to use my name in order for this to work both ways.” She snorts, smiling still.

He feels light like air, even though he's panicking about what to call her. He sneaks a glance at her, trying his hardest to be aloof. Her arms are crossed in front of her: in heat preservation or to protect herself? He can’t really tell.

But he’s strangely entranced.

They’re near the castle now, every inch of grass covered in small daisies.

Sirius scratches his right ear, says a little prayer and the name ushers out of his mouth before he can even breathe. 

It’s worth a shot.

“Daisy.”

“You know that’s not my name,” She laughs and hits his arm softly. He’s laughing too, but on the inside he’s close to tears.

“You suit Daisy though,” Can he get away with it?

She stops suddenly to pick up one of the delicate flowers, twirling it in her fingers. “Do I?

This isn’t like him. He’s usually cool, like a sea breeze. Not a mess of feelings.

“Yes. But your name is beautiful, too.” He doesn’t need to know her name to know that.

She’s about to say something when the doors open and Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon stand there holding butterbeers in their hands.

“Mary!” Lily calls, in between chuckles. “We’re all waiting for you, cmon!”

The girl by his side laughs and moves forward towards her friends, but just as she’s about to enter the castle she turns back towards him.

She smiles, completely oblivious to what battle has just been going on inside him.

She smiles. And he loses his breath.

“See you up at the party, Sirius.”

And then she’s arm in arm with Lily and Marlene, giggling as they run up the stairs.

“See you there, Mary MacDonald.”

Her name is like the sweetest chocolate and honeycomb. And he’s never felt more alive.

Of course, Gryffindor has its celebration party and Sirius stands idly by the window with a butterbeer.

It looks like the caffeine has finally gone into James’s system because the guy dances on his feet, asking every person he sees to pinch him because he can’t believe they’ve won. Sirius pinches a little too hard, and James’ wrist is red for most of the night.

Remus has a few too many butterbeers and his cheeks go red and rosy and, when he clutches his fifth bottle, suggests they play spin the bottle.

Why not, Sirius thinks. But then instantly regrets it when the bottle lands on him and the person he has to kiss is Lily Evans.

* * *

 

Each year he keeps a tally of how many times he calls her Mary.

It’s sweet on his lips, addictive. Something he doesn’t really have control over.

To make it less suspicious he uses  _Daisy_  on occasion, and marvels at how her cheeks redden just from a pet-name.

In all honesty, it’s when she breathes out his own name and the word is a soft whisper, making his back tingle and his chest heave.

It’s when, after what seems like a lifetime of shy smiles and nervous glances, they finally hold hands and share their first kiss.

When his name is a mumble between her lips and their limbs are tangled under their bedsheets.

It’s like he’s only just learnt how to breathe. Like his heart has only just began to beat steadily against his chest, and what keeps him going is her.

When he knows he’s ready to spend the rest of his life with her, when he can’t picture anyone else but her smile… he lets the name fall out of his lips.

“Daisy.” Not because she’s cute like the flower (although she is, tremendously so) but because it was the start of them. Of Sirius and Mary, Mary and Sirius.

Together they’re unstoppable.

He’s bad with names, but not with hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY THIS HAS TAKEN SO LONG! also i can't believe I've written almost 3k for a chapter about pet names which isn't even really about pet names. oh my gosh.


	3. patching each other up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary finds Sirius at the Potter's house

James and Lily are arguing, _again._

James snaps a quill and scrunches up his parchment paper in a fit of anger. Lily faceplants the table and Mary Macdonald, who is unfortunately seated in between the two hotheads, wishes she could be anywhere else but there.

“I’ve gone over it _three_ times!” Lily moans and covers her face with her hands. “It’s theory, Potter. How hard can it be?”

“It's _Potions Theory_. The two of my least favourite things, Evans.” James adjusts his glasses, giving the girl opposite him a nasty glare.

Lily glares back. “It’s not my fault you almost failed Potions.”

“Not my fault you’re a bad teacher.”

A bang on the front door makes the three of them jump. Mary is up in an instant, springing from her spot on the couch like a jack-in-a-box. She’s been listening to them for what feels like _hours_ (it’s amazing how stubborn and completely and utterly oblivious they both are, these dorks).   
  
“I’ll get it!”

She’s already halfway across the room, breathing out a sigh of relief because whoever’s at the door is her saviour, to be quite honest.

Even from the hallway, where the rain thunders against the Potter’s extravagant and exuberant windows like pots banging against each other, she can _still_ hear their incessant bickerings. She can’t help but shake her head and smile; they’re both as bad as each other and really need to get past their differences and just _snog_.

She’s grinning as she grips onto the door. It’s so dark out and she vaguely recalls glancing at her watch a little while ago and noticing that it was almost midnight.

She blinks when she pulls open the door. Sirius Black is standing there, shivering and shaking as raindrops pour down his hair and face. He's got his trunk behind him and bloody knuckles grip tight onto several plastic bags.

He looks shocked to see her. “MacDonald? Um.”

His hands are shaking as he tries to brush away the hair that’s splattered across his face.

“Black? Oh my god.”

He opens his mouth, looking nervous like he suddenly regrets being there. He’s soaked through to the bone and the rain is still battering down hard against the pavement.

She doesn’t say anything, but she reaches out to grab onto his shoulder in an instant. Fingers gripping tight against his leather jacket, she pulls him inside. He moves without hesitation, following her lead.

He’s freezing against her skin.

“What the hell happened?” she chokes out once she’s shut the door.

“I had to… I couldn't,” his voice quivers, he’s breathing heavily and his wide eyes show he’s still in a state of shock. He walks backwards, hitting the door with a soft thud and he winces at the harsh impact.

In the lit up hallway of the Potters estate, Mary is shown the answer.

His lip is bleeding, a nasty red bruise and bump already surfaces around the corner of his mouth. Wet hair drips against his face; messy, wild curls drooping down and covering most of his eyes - but she can just make out a small blue bruise forming against the side of his left eye, most of it covered by his hair but it looks nasty and painful all the same.

There’s a wave of silence and then James pops his head round the door.

“Who was at the…” his eyes bulge at the sight of Sirius, who only now lets the bags he’s been desperately holding onto fall to the floor. He’s wringing his hands together.

“Sirius…” James looks furious. “What-”

“Sorry…” Chest still heaving, like he’s ran a mile. Mary doesn’t think she’s ever heard Sirius Black apologise before, nor look so… unlike himself. “Guess I should have, err, said something before-”

But James is already stumbling towards him.

“This is your home, don’t.” he whispers, arms tightening around his friend like he’s never going to let go.

Mary feels like she’s intruding in the _worst possible sense_. She curls her fingers, and her nails dig into the skin of her palms as she watches the scene unfold.

“Potter, we still have to-”

Lily stomps into the room, anger residing on her face which sizzles abruptly when she sees the newcomer.

She takes one look at him and her eyebrows furrow.

“Merlin’s beard. Sirius Black, take that jacket off right now! You look like a drowned rat.”

Hands on her hips, she waddles over to them, tutting and repeatedly gasping out strings of every curse and swear word she can think of. There’s a sense of McGonagall in her hard-set eyes, the kind of motherly affection that Sirius was always so fond of.

His eyes twinkle, though they’re full to the brink with tears, and he nods, giving her a mock salute. “Yes ma’am.”

It’s clear that he’s in pain, his movements are slow and weary but he manages to take off the jacket eventually. All he’s wearing underneath is a white t shirt that’s so soaked Mary can make out every single detail about the upper half of his body.

Sirius smiles, or tries to, until he winces and bites back a hiss.

“So.” He clears his throat and twiddles his fingers. “Didn’t realise I’d be getting such a welcome. Are Fortescue and Meadowes here as well?”

Mary’s frozen on the spot, fully aware of the way that Sirius pours his gaze onto her. He’s surprised she and Lily are here, of course he is. She’s only here because Lily refused to go to the Potter’s alone.

“We can leave if you-” she doesn’t know how she finds her voice, but it cracks against her throat and she winces at the sound of it. She’s not moved since, and she’s even got her arms folded against her chest to make her look smaller.

He immediately shakes his head, water droplets cascading down and falling softly onto the plush carpet.

“No, it’s fine,”

The scattered and panicked footsteps of Euphemia and Fleamont Potter fill the hallways and Mary ushers backwards a little as they rush towards Sirius. Lily gives her a sad smile and takes hold of her hand. Mary grips back, wanting some of the courage that her friend always seems to have buckets of.

She needs it, if not for herself then for her friends.

For Sirius.

From the door they watch the scene unfold and Mary somehow catches Sirius’ gaze as Euphemia brings him into a gentle hug. His eyes aren’t bright, not shining.

She almost feels guilty, keeping hold of it but then Sirius breaks the connection, closing his eyes tight as he hugs Euphemia back.

“You're safe now. You're staying here. You’re home."

* * *

 

 

She waits behind Euphemia, who gives the door a firm knock of a ‘ _rat-a-tat-tat_ ’. The lady, with a first aid kit cooped in her hands, presses her ear against the door and knocks once more.

“Sirius, darling.”

There’s the faint whisper of a ‘ _come in_ ’ from the boy in question, his voice so small and distant against the thunderous splatter of the rain outside that Mary thinks his voice was just her imagination.

Mrs Potter turns to Mary, giving her a soft nod and a smile before she opens the door.

The room is warm, the crackling fire near the cozy double bed gives out a merry glow. She follows close behind, gripping a hot mug of tea in her shaking hands.

“We’ve made you a tea, dear.”

Mary takes this as her cue and sets the steaming mug on top of a floral coaster. Euphemia sets the first aid kit down next to it, claps her hands and ushers Sirius onto the bed.

There’s a loud bang from downstairs, raised voices amidst the crashing. James Potter is throwing pots and pans, it sounds like. Euphemia clears her throat and gives Sirius, who sits cautiously on the end of the bed, a reassuring smile.

“We’re just going to clean you up a little. Mary, be a dear and pass me the pepper up.”

Mary barely has hold of the bottle before Sirius is on his feet. He reaches out, hand completely engulfing her own. He must notice her shiver because she feels the slight, gentle caress of his thumb against her fingers before he takes the bottle and swigs it down in one gulp.

Another bang echoes through the walls, a crash and what sounds like James Potter throwing a piano across a room (although Mary was given a tour of the house, down to Algernon’s bedroom and she’s pretty sure she didn’t see any piano).

Mrs Potter flicks at her wand, the cotton balls and medicinal bottles by Mary’s feet fly towards her and she grabs them with ease.

“Mary, you hold this as I fetch some warm water. We’re going to fix that nasty black eye for you, Sirius darling.”

“ _Black eye_?” Sirius immediately draws his arm up, whispering out a shaky swear word as he presses a finger on the bruised skin.

“Careful, you've got an eye there.” Mary grabs hold of his hand, stopping him before he can touch the bruised skin. In an instant there are butterflies in her stomach, a sickly but excited jolt that twists around and spreads all the way down to her feet.

Can he feel it too? He doesn’t show any emotion (but she can’t exactly blame him for that), but he does look at her in a strange sort of way. She drops his hand quickly and all but throws an ice pack at him.

“So that's what it is,” he grins. Even with a black eye he looks like a fairytale, all dreams and happy endings and it makes Mary’s heart ache.

“You've got nice eyes so - yeah - be careful.” she says with a cough. Her ears are hot, and she feels like she's in a furnace, a Sirius Black furnace to be precise - as his eyes seem to scorch through her.

“I mean,” she clears her throat - Euphemia seems to be taking an _awfully long time_ getting some water. “I mean they’re good, you’ve got good eyes.”

“I hope they're good.” Sirius is grinning again and folds his arms, leaning back against the wall. She's still pinned under his stare and it's like she can’t look away from him. “Otherwise I wouldn't be able to see for shi-”

_Now_ Euphemia comes out of the ensuite, catches Mary’s gaze and gives her a sneaky wink.

“Come sit on the bed Sirius. Let's have a look at you.”

He complies, more at ease now than he was ten minutes ago. Euphemia takes the bottle from Mary’s grasp, and then with the cotton ball dabs at his eye.

“Ow!”

“You're supposed to close your eye, sweetie.” Euphemia smirks and dabs his eye again. There's another crash and this time Lily yells out James’s name.

Euphemia is up in an instant, putting the bottle and cotton balls into Mary’s hands.

“I’m just going to check up on everything downstairs,” she says with a smile and hurries towards the door. “Mary, darling, just finish up with his face. And don’t forget his mouth.”

Then Mrs Potter shuts the door, after she gives her most obvious wink in existence, leaving Mary utterly mortified and Sirius very amused.

“I don’t bite, MacDonald.” Sirius says after a few moments of silence, and pats the mattress next to him, where Euphemia was just moments before.

There’s not much else she can do, so, with flaming and burning cheeks, she scurries over towards him. Her legs are shaking as she sits, their thighs so close they’re almost brushing against each other.

She takes a deep breath, grabs hold of the ointment and stares deep into his eyes. He looks astonished.

“Hold still then,” she says and leans forwards.

He shivers slightly at the sting so she presses it lightly, trying to be as gentle as she can. He’s still staring at her, it’s almost unnerving and uncomfortable but she feels calm? She doesn’t think she’s ever (mentally or physically) been this close to him before. Where she can see the shade of grey in his eyes, the rosy tint of his cheeks and the redness of his sweet-looking lips.

For the first time that she’s known him, he seems open, willing, and slightly apprehensive.

He clears his throat and, with his uninjured hand, scratches his head. “Sorry you’ve got the boring job of being nurse.”

“Don’t be daft,” she says almost immediately, “I like doing this.”

With shaking fingers she grabs hold of the cream for bruises and gingerly rubs a slither over it. He’s staring again, perplexed but grinning for some reason and it makes her hands shake even more.

“The nursing, I mean.” she mumbles, dropping her gaze to the next bruise she needs to deal with. The one on his lip, ironically. “I like to…” her voice cracks and, after a rather humiliating cough, lets out a deep breath. “I like to nurse.”

He grins, showing his perfect pearly white teeth (save from a slight overbite that is extremely adorable) and her heart shivers uncontrollably.

“You can wipe that grin off your face, mister.” Refusing to look at him, she stares hard at the cotton ball in her hand and glances towards his mouth. “I need to - your lip, that is.”

He seems to understand her mumbling mess and motions zipping his mouth shut. His eyes still shine though, light and full of happiness which she’s frightfully thankful for. Seeing him suffer in pain was something she could barely handle, and it’s a lot nicer seeing him relaxed.

The cut on his lip looks so sore and painful, but not once does he show any hint or sign of discomfort. Instead he picks at the dirt in his fingernails, humming out a song she vaguely knows the tune of.

They’re still miles away, at different places and parts that she’s still not sure what she feels. But there’s something there, she can feel it and she’s certain by now he must be feeling it too.

In the moment something changes, what neither can really tell, but there’s a light and airy feeling in her chest. Like she’s just taken in fresh air for the first time. She doesn’t know it yet, but it’s the start of something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so im always so sooo bad at finishing ugh it feels naff and rushed IM SORRY but this has been sitting in my docs for ages so... here you go! <33


	4. Hospital Visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my take on what happened the day Mulciber (CANON) attacked Mary MacDonald.
> 
> Slight angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i speculated with a few people on tumblr, and the general consensus is they all thought mulciber attacked mary sexually, did something as he was using dark magic. i know it's a sensitive subject, so i don't go into details about it. but this is my take on it

“Something bad’s gonna happen,” Sirius says one day during breakfast. He’s been staring at his porridge for the past six minutes and James, whose long legs (accidentally) kick his under the table, gives him a funny look.

“Why’d you say that?” Peter asks, as he reaches for the last slice of toast.

He gives Sirius a glance before doing so, knowing how much the boy usually loves his toast, porridge _and_ english breakfast in the mornings. But Sirius is still yet to finish his now going-cold porridge, so Peter grabs the last slice with a victorious smile and happily spreads a vast amount of butter on the bread.

Sirius grunts, twirls his spoon around in his gloopy porridge and sighs dramatically. “I dunno, just a feeling I guess,”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” Remus waggles his finger and, with his free hand, hits Sirius’s shoulder with his muggle newspaper. “You have to stop reading the utter garbage that is _Wizard’s Wednesday_.”

James lets out a gasp. “I’ll have you know, Mr Moony, that _Wizard’s Wednesday_ is extremely educational and beneficial-”

Remus rolls his eyes, grinning. “ _Ten spells to recreate the odors of_ _flatulence_ is not educational, Prongs.”

“Came in handy last week during Charms though,” Sirius laughs, despite the resigning, heavy feeling in his gut. “Flitwick almost fainted.”

“Eat your porridge before it gets even colder,” Remus rolls his eyes. “You can moan about the end of the world on a full stomach instead of whining that you’re hungry.”

Sirius huffs and, to make a point, shoves a heaped spoon of soggy oats in his mouth. It’s a gross texture and he lets out a shiver, something bad is definitely going to happen - he never goes off his food.

He forces himself to swallow nevertheless and washes it down with a gulp of orange juice. “I found a hole in my sock too,” he says with a grimace. “ _and_ Peter just ate all of the toast.”

Peter makes an indignant sound but his mouth is still full with bits of toast. Sirius only grins, flicking a bit of his porridge from his spoon at him.

“I’m only joking mate,”

Peter wipes his now oaty sleeve on the table and sticks out his tongue. Sirius is laughing, and that’s when he hears the tiniest sneeze.

He cocks his head slightly to his left and, lo and behold, there Mary MacDonald is, bracing herself with her eyes half closed and her mouth open for another sneeze. Except the sneeze never comes and she sits there for at least a full minute looking like she’s in complete agony. Lily Evans erupts into a fit of giggles and lets out a cheer when Mary finally lets out the sneeze and gives her friend the middle finger.

She sneezes again and, in that moment, lifts up her head.

She’s noticed him staring.

Something inside of him tightens, what (or even _why_ ) he has no idea. She blushes a little and then sends him a little wave, a friendly morning greeting that has his stomach in knots. He’s ready to reciprocate it when James’s hands slap on his shoulders and he’s being pulled off the bench.

“Time for Potions, pads.” James says as he stuffs another piece of bacon into his mouth. “Were you staring off into space?”

Sirius blinks, trying to shake away the colour of Mary’s eyes from his mind. “Err, yeah.”

He realises with a shiver that he’s not the only one staring. Avery, Mulciber and Malfoy are glaring, muttering under their breaths as they eat the last scraps of their breakfast.

The feeling tightens, his insides squirming as he looks at Mary once more. He doesn’t like this feeling at all.

“You can ogle at MacDonald during Potions, mate.” Remus laughs as Peter grabs hold of his arm and pulls him from the table.

James lets out a snigger and Sirius catches the way Mary’s cheeks and ears turn a bright red, her face buried into the Daily Prophet.

Sirius’s gut twists once more, whatever it is _can’t_ be good.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s not one for superstition, growing up in the Black manor kind of does that to you. But, as he grips his desk in the potions classroom, he’s painfully aware of - well - _everything_.

James is currently in the middle of one of his Quidditch Rants, and talks non stop about strategy, quaffles, bludgers and quidditch maneuvers that require ultimate precision and timing. None of them are really listening, although Peter has the decency to at least murmur in agreement once in a while as he jots down the final questions of the homework.

Wait. Homework?

Sirius scratches his head and then sits up a little straighter, glancing at the parchment that Peter’s practically hugging.

“We had homework?” he asks, a little surprised.

Remus looks up from his textbook, the first movement he’s made since James opened his mouth. “Slughorn gave it us a week ago, weren’t you paying attention?”

Sirius makes a face and shrugs.

“Right,” Remus says with a roll of his eyes. “Of course you weren’t, why did I even ask.”

“I had other things on my mind,” he replies with a shrug, flicking through his book to see if there’s any mention of said homework amongst the scribbled and tattered pages.

It’s not exactly a lie - he just doesn’t know exactly what _it_ is that’s been plaguing his mind.

“Even I managed to do it,” James says with a smug grin, pulling out his own. The paper is scrunched and an absolute mess, with food blotches (ketchup and chocolate) decorated around the edges.

“What an effort that must have been for you,” Remus snorts.

Peter scratches down one last word with his quill and throws his parchment into his bag. Ink spills over the desk and he wipes it up absently with his sleeve.

“Just write something down now, then you’ve at least done _something_ and Slughorn can’t really give you de-”

The classroom door opens and in waddles Slughorn, who takes out his wand and smiles far too happily for a Wednesday morning. “Everyone, put your homework on your desks. I will collect them all momentarily.”

Sirius lets out a groan and fall forwards, hitting his head on the desk with a thump. Slughorn flourishes his wand and papers fly around the room, settling onto the front desk in a neat pile.

“See me tonight for detention, Mr Black.”

He doesn’t even bother to lift up his head, merely grunts as laughter ripples amongst the class. James slaps a hand to his back in a slightly comforting, tough-luck-mate manner before Slughorn announces he’s going to put the class into pairs.

He just wants to drown into the wooden desk and still doesn’t lift his head, not even when names are read out. The list dwindles down; Peter gets paired with Lily and James gets paired with Avery.

That’s when he realises his name still hasn’t been called, nor Mulciber’s… nor Mary’s.

The sick feeling in his gut is back and he, albeit rather stubbornly, pulls himself up from the desk and squints at Slughorn as he holds up the last inch of his list in his hands.

“And that leaves our trio for today; Black, Mulciber and MacDonald.”

The classroom erupts with groans as chairs scrape against the hardwood floor, tables are pushed back and students grumpily stomp over to their partners.

“I’ll give you a thousand galleons if you swap with me,” James says with a sour expression as he picks up his bag. “At least you’ve got MacDonald.”

“Yeah,” Sirius mutters, but James is already halfway across the classroom and sits down on the stool like a child who’s had their sweets taken away.

Peter has the nerve to actually laugh as he and Lily chat happily away together and James, mature as always, gives him the finger.

Sirius is tempted to do the same thing, but then Mary sits down on the stool next to him and it’s like his brain has been wiped clean.

“MacDonald,” All he can remember is how to say her name, the sound alone brings life back into his bones. “Hey.”

She gives him a small smile as her bag slides underneath the table. “Black,” she says with a nod.

His skin prickles, everything around them is just background noise. There’s just her. “Er, how are you? Have a good breakfast?”

“Move over, mudblood.” Mulciber says with a sneer as he slams his potions book onto the table.

“Hey!” Sirius is up in an instant, shaking as he looms over Mulciber. He’s breathing heavily, hands curled up into tight fists. He’s seeing white.

“Don’t,” Mary’s voice is soft, but sharp. She grabs hold of his wrist, and pulls him back down onto the stool. “He’s not even worth it.”

Her fingers are tiny and delicate, and they wrap tight around him, pulling him back towards her.

Mulciber grins, clearly pleased with himself.

“Right,” Sirius says, his skin still tingling with anger. She lets her fingers go, and his wrist drops to his side like dead weight.

He catches her gaze, he can see the anger and hurt in her eyes from the comment but all she does is wipe her nose with a tissue and gets out her textbook.

 

* * *

 

“For the seventeenth time,” she says with a sigh. “I’m fine.”

She doesn’t seem fine, though. She’s walking with a stomp in her step, her shoes clicking angrily against the floor towards the staircase. Her hands are curled into fists by her sides, and when he glances her way again she’s staring straight ahead, refusing to catch his gaze.

“It’s okay to be pissed. He’s a complete and utter fart-bag jackass.”

She snorts at that, and lifts up her cloak a little as they hop onto the staircase to the second floor. “Very descriptive.”

“Look - MacDonald,” he says, and she must notice the seriousness (no pun intended, he’s extremely serious) in his voice because she swallows nervously and finally turns to look at him. “I just want to know if you’re alright.”

“I think you’re the one that’s affected by it more than me,”

Hopping off the stairs, and making sure he doesn’t miss his footing, is a little difficult when he’s paying so much attention to the small girl beside him. Somehow he manages to get onto the second floor in one piece.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You don’t have to sound so insulted,” her sighing makes another appearance, and he finds himself scratching his ears as he forces himself to look at the floor. “It’s just that - you’ve spent your whole life knowing that _that_ word is bad, for someone like me. But I was just flung into at eleven not really understanding it all-”

“The term itself is utter dragon balls, you’re one of the most talented witches in our year-”

“I mean - yeah, it’s not a nice word to be called. But I just try to not let it get to me, you know?”

She shrugs and sends him a smile that somehow makes his heart shiver.

Is that even possible?

He’s trying to understand it all, but she’s very much an enigma all of her own and his brain is overloaded as it is.

“You’re definitely something MacDonald,” is all he can say. For some reason he’s nervous. “Don’t let it get you down.”

She smiles once more and his throat tightens. “I promise, it won’t.”

 

* * *

 

The day seems to be looking up, finally. History of Magic passes in a blur.

 James doodles on his paper, and must be daydreaming and not really focusing on what exactly it is he’s drawing because suddenly there’s ten _LE_ ’s on his parchment and he begins to furiously scribble them out when Sirius notices. Then, as if to make a point he writes in capital letters ‘LOVELY ESKIMOS’.

Lily wins Gryffindor twenty points for getting a few answers right, but then Frank Longbottom is caught sleeping and the points are taken back almost instantly.

When classes are officially over Sirius’s stomach is a rumbling mess, and he declares more than once (try ten times) that he’s about to explode from hunger until they all finally sit down at the Gryffindor table.

Then he sees that there’s corned beef hash for dinner, and it feels like his strange curse has been lifted.

“Finally, some good fecking food,” he says with his mouth full.

He blissfully ignores Peter and Remus’s repulsed stares, and ends up having three helpings before declaring that he’s about to burst.

“I’m not surprised,” James says as he grabs two more chicken legs. “You practically inhaled your food. Didn’t even let it touch the sides.”

“I was hungry!” Food splatters out of his mouth as he speaks, and Peter lets out of groan as it hits him straight on the side of his cheek.

“That’s disgusting.” Peter says with a grimace, wiping the food off with his sleeve.

“ _You’re_ disgusting, how about that Pete?”

“Rats are clean-”

“Are they heck-”

“Unlike dogs-”

“Keep your voices down, honestly.” Remus says and looks around nervously, giving them both a glare.

“Which animal was it again that carried the plague?” Sirius taps his chin thoughtfully.

“Fleas,” James says sharply.

“Those are bugs, not animals.” Remus counters, shaking his head. “Sirius has a point, sorry Pete.”

“Damn it.”

But Sirius isn’t really listening now. Well, he is but Mary’s just moving her plate away from her and it looks as if she’s about to go somewhere.

He’s up before he knows it.

“Oi, where you going?”

James’s question rings loud, and several people look up, including Lily Evans and Mary MacDonald.

“Um,” Sirius starts, his hands suddenly sweaty. “Alright, MacDonald?”

“She’s got detention,” Lily says with a grin. “And she’s prolonging it as much as possible,”

Mary lets out a groan and checks her watch. “Why would McGonagall make it at such an obnoxious time? Seven o’clock is only for eating.”

“I’ll walk you to your detention, MacDonald.” Sirius says, trying to be as casual and aloof as he can. It doesn’t work.

Lily raises her eyebrows, catching Mary’s gaze curiously. But all she does is shrug and grabs one more cupcake before her legs swing from the bench and she jumps up. She’s always been able to cover emotions up well.

The rest of the marauders are still staring at him, gobsmacked, as Mary stands next to him.

“I’ll catch you guys later,” he gives them a wave and jerks his thumb to the great hall exit. “Potions detention, remember.”

“Ah yeah,” Peter sniggers. “Bad luck mate, you should have just written ‘This is a potion that makes you sleep’ and then you would have at least handed something in at least,”

“Whatever, no biggie.” Sirius shrugs, and gives a quick salute before following Mary’s lead and leaving the hall.

“Making sure I don’t skip, Black?” she asks after a few minutes of silence.

The noise of the hall dies down as they walk further away, only the sound of their shoes hitting the cold stone floor in their ears.

“Quite the opposite, love. I’m trying to be your bad influence.”

“You - suggest skipping detention? What’s happened to the world?”

“Merlin’s left saggy ball-sack,” he lets out a yawn, and throws back his arms as he gives a stretch. “Let’s just save us both the torment and skip whilst we can.” He gives her a grin, and is elated when he sees her reciprocate it. “You and me, MacDonald, to the kitchens and the ends of Hogwarts.”

“I don’t think McGonagall would be happy if I skipped,” she says with a little laugh, dodging a first year student that runs towards the great hall.

“Nonsense, we’re only sixty points from Hufflepuff.”

“And we’d be down about a hundred and fifty if McGonagall and Slughorn caught us skipping. She’d have my head.”

“What if I distracted her whilst you ran away?”

“You’d do that for me? You’re being awfully kind and gentlemanly,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

“Awfully, huh?”

She gives a portrait a little wave before turning back to him, her cheeks are flushed. “In a nice way, I guess.”

“Stop it, you’re making me blush.”

Her smile is gone, and in its place is a look of torment in her eyes. She lets out a small sigh, shakes her head and keeps walking.

His heart skips a beat. “What?”

“Nothing,”

“It’s clearly something.”

“It’s just,” she shakes her head to the side and then shrugs. “It’s just you.”

“Me?”

She gives him a look he’s never been given before. A look that makes him feel cold but warm at the same time. Exposed - like she’s staring right into his soul.

“You act different that’s all.”

“No I don’t-”

“Okay-”

“I just feel at ease more with different people.”

“You don’t need to justify yourself-”

“Like you.” He stops in the middle of the corridor and she has no choice but to do the same, staring up at him. “I like how I am when you’re around.”

His jaw clenches, and his stomach churns. Heart hammering painfully against his chest, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Mary,” his voice is like a whisper now, unsure, afraid of what might be said. “Are we even going to _talk_ about last week?”

That seems to ignite something in her. She clears her throat, and tries to hide the tiniest of smiles against her lips. He spots it in a second.

“I thought you were just messing around.”

“I was being dead serious. I told you.” All he can do is shrug and, deflated, puts his hands in his pockets. “I like you.”

He’s planning on saying something else, God only knows what. Something sloppy and romantic or whatever. He takes a deep breath, but she’s already stepping forward with her hand raised.

Sweet Merlin - she’s going to slap him in the face isn't she? He winces and shuts his eyes, already waiting and dreading the inevitable impact.

But it’s when she grabs his tie, and pulls him forwards softly so he’s stumbling like the great idiot he is that he opens his eyes. She’s kissing him and he can’t even believe it. He never wants to let go.

He kisses back, desperate because it’s been at the tip of his tongue for so long now. Desperate, because he doesn’t want this to ever end. Her delicate hands are over his, soft and real, pulling him into a strange kind of security and peace that he hasn’t really experienced before.

It’s the softest of kisses, light and sweet that leaves a tingling sensation all throughout his body. And when she pulls back he can still feel her everywhere.

He can’t help but smile, and he lets out a little laugh when he sees how her cheeks are tickled with pink.

“Common room, later?” he asks, his voice just a whisper.

She nods. “See you after detention.”

“Okay.”

Neither of them move, they’re stuck in this half embrace.

“Why aren’t you leaving?” she asks after a few minutes. Her hands are folded against her chest and she can’t help but grin.

He follows her actions, leaning casually against the wall to his left. “Waiting for you to go first.”

“Out of chivalry or because you like the view?”

He lets out a gasp and puts a hand to his heart. “MacDonald, you wound me.”

“Whatever. You’re such an idiot.”

“I know,”

“Bye,” This time she leans in and plants a kiss on his cheek. Then, with a little wave of her hand, she continues her short walk to transfiguration.

Potions is back the way they came, and so he stares at her for a moment before turning around.

He’s still grinning when he meets Slughorn.

“That’s exactly how one should enter a potions classroom!” Slughorn exclaims, beaming as Sirius comes through the door. The potions professor claps his hands. “With a smile and excitement!”

“I just couldn’t handle being away from you, sir.”

Slughorn lets out a laugh. “You’re such a bright boy, Mr Black. I want you to write some lines tonight.”

Sirius sits down on one of the desks and takes out his quill and parchment. “ _Thou shalt not forget homework essay_ s, sir?” he asks, dipping his quill into the ink pot.

“More rather,” Slughorn says with a small smile. “ _It is okay to ask for help_.”

“Sorry?” His quill drips, and ink blotches stain the parchment.

“You know, I was really hoping you would get into Slytherin. I had heard such good things about you. And to have a whole family in one house, it would have been,” Slughorn pauses, and taps his chin thoughtfully. “Special.”

“Sorry sir.” All he can do is shrug, and bites his lip.

“For not being in Slytherin? You needn’t apologise. You are who you are. I just see something special in you.”

“So,” Sirius dips his quill in the ink again and scribbles out the date. “I should write, _Family members can be put in other houses_?”

“We’ll just have ‘ _Try not to forget homework’_ for now, Mr Black.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” His quill is scribbly and dry, so after another dip in his ink pot he’s ready to start writing

“And don’t think I can’t discern smiles, Black.” Sirius looks up to find Slughorn smirking from his desk. “I know a lovestruck smile when I can see one.”

Detention flies by, just thinking about Mary and the sweetness of her lips keeps him alert. He counts down every minute and then he’s leaving potions and the trek back to the Gryffindor common room feels like a light year away.

“Another detention, Mr Black?” one portrait asks with the shake of his head.

Sirius lets out a small shrug, grinning as he passes by. He’s so focused on the portrait and replaying the kiss over and over again in his head that someone bumps hard into his shoulder as they barge past, and he hits the wall with a slam.

“Corridor not big enough for you, Mulciber?” he grunts.

“I didn’t even see you there, Black.” Mulciber grins, and the sadistic kind of smile makes Sirius feel uneasy.

“Someone made an improvement, I see.” Sirius gestures, tapping onto his own nose which isn’t broken, nor covered in blood.

Mulciber scowls, or tries to at least and ends up making a face that looks rather constipated. “That’s not something you should say to an old friend,”

“Piss off, arsehole. What do you even want?”

“Just giving myself an alibi, Black.” he shrugs. The Slytherin turns around, begins to walk purposefully slow and then stops after a few steps. “Oh,” he turns back. “And I’d tell your little friends not to run around trying to play hero. Someone might just get hurt. Well, I should say more.”

Sirius can only stare at him, watching as he goes around the corner towards the Slytherin common room.

“Creep,” he mutters to the portrait, and the woman in her ballgown nods her head in agreement.

“So many students in a pickle tonight,” she sighs, and nods her head to the portrait to her left. “The one on the fifth floor sounded serious,”

The knight in the next painting places his sword on the ground. “Terrible. You should get going to your own common room too, Mr Black.”

Sirius gives them both a salute, and counts down the minutes until he can see Mary again.

The portrait of the fat lady greets him, and when he enters into the common room there’s not a soul in sight. The fire is still burning merrily and he plops himself down on the sofa nearest to the furnace and closes his eyes.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been there, but the sound of the door opening wakes him up.

It’s Remus and Lily who enter the common room, chattering to themselves.

“What are you still doing up?” Lily asks with raised eyebrows.

He must look a funny sight, still in his uniform and wrapped around several blankets. He most likely has a bed-head too, and he runs a hand through his hair to try and tame whatever mess has occurred during his small nap.

He lets out a yawn as he stands. “I must have fallen asleep after detention. Where have you guys been?”

Remus leans on the sofa as he takes off his shoes. “We had to cover Hufflepuff’s patrol. Meera and Thomas were doing something.”

“Have you seen Potter?” Lily asks, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“He’s snoring like a banshee upstairs,” Remus answers, and shoots Lily a quick smirk. “Why?”

Lily clears her throat, cheeks red. “No reason,” she pauses and pretends to look at her fingernails for a moment. “Well, I needed to talk to him about something.”

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific, Evans.” Sirius says with a yawn.

“It’s private,” she says finally, with a shake of her head.

“Oh my, _private_ you say?” he leans forward, giving Lily a cheeky grin.

“Private as in: mind your own bloody business, Black.” she replies with a roll of her eyes. “Why did you fall asleep down here anyways? Are beds too comfortable for you?”

The kiss wonders back into the front of his mind, and he itches his left ear slowly. Lily and Remus stare at him, waiting expectantly for a reply that doesn’t come for a matter of minutes. He runs a hand through his hair, then gives a shrug. “I was just, um, waiting for Mary.”

“Mary?” Lily frowns. “Why-”

“We were - uh - talking about something before our detentions, and we didn’t get to… finish what we were talking about?”

“Why are you asking that like a question?”

“What?”

Lily shakes her head, grinning. “Is that about last week?”

“Wait, she - she told you about that?”

“Of course she did,” Lily says, like it’s obvious. “She was worried you were messing her about. I didn’t doubt it for a second.”

“Oh.”

“Anyways,” Remus says, shuffling towards the fire with his hands out. “She’s in the hospital wing right now-”

“What? How come?”

“Some fight between Mulciber, Mary and a first year. They’re all in the infirmary for observation.”

That uneasy, gut-wrenching feeling is back, and he finds it difficult to breathe for a second. “Mulciber?” His mouth feels dry, and he hates the way Remus and Lily give him a pitiful, almost apologetic stare.

He can’t believe it. He knew it, he could almost smell it. That something bad was going to happen. He just didn’t expect it to be about her. God, please - anyone, but her.

“Well is she - is she okay?”

 

* * *

 

  
There’s a strange sort of look in her eyes when he sees her, he can’t quite put his finger on it. A vagueness, something cloudy - she has to be hiding something.

“Did you see him?” she asks, staring at the flowers in the vase for the tenth time already.

He felt like a fool, squatting down in the gardens as he pulled out a bunch of wildflowers, overthinking the kiss, and thinking about what the hell he would say when he saw her again. He felt even more like a fool when he was standing outside the hospital wing, the flowers clutched in his shaking hand as he knocked on the door.

He opens his mouth to speak, but his intake of breath is clearly enough for her to understand his silence.

“Mulciber,” she says. She breathes in and then, finally, turns to look at him.

She’s hurting - he can tell just by staring at her. But she gives him a small smile and taps her nose. Her left arm is in a sling, he doesn’t ask what happened.

“You punched him?”

She lets out a small laugh as she nods. “He had it coming.”

“If you, err.” He itches his chin as he struggles to find the right words. He’s not sure what to do. “If you want to, or need to talk, I’m here. Okay? Mary - I’m here.”

He hates this. Not because he isn’t good with talking, or feelings. But he feels lost, watching helplessly as Mary swallows and tries not to cry.

She doesn’t say anything - she just scoots in her bed slowly, leaving enough room for him to join her on the hospital bed. He kicks off his shoes and lays down next to her on top of the covers. An arm wraps tight against his, and he swivels around slowly to encase her small body against his.

He doesn’t say anything, just strokes her hair out of her eyes as he listens. Her breathing is scattered, and she hiccoughs as she speaks.

Minutes, or hours, maybe even seconds, flutter by. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t care. All that matters is her - Mary - sleeping softly against him. Her face resting on the top of his chest. Her breathing soft, slow, steady.

Their hands are still entwined, and he rubs his thumb slowly against hers. He moves, but only slightly, only enough to reach out and kiss her forehead.

Her hand tightens against his, and she lets out a sigh. “I think I like you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy!


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